


This Would Be Gone

by witchofhearts



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Canon Compliant, Kinda?, Prequel, Trans Male Character, Trans Saihara, basically just an au where the reason saihara auditioned was so he could be himself, bc i headcanon him as trans anyways, i dont even know my own plot tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 04:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10586232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofhearts/pseuds/witchofhearts
Summary: 'She collapsed him deep into herself and trapped him under the rubble of her own chest, so that there was no escape.'The reason why Saihara auditioned in the first place.





	

The show had never really been an option, but she asked about it anyways.

At seventeen, with her dark hair spilling around her shoulders and her pretty little head tilted slightly to the side, her parents couldn’t imagine somebody as delicate as her actively attempting to be part of something as brutal as _that,_ so they laughed as if it were a joke, and turned back to whatever bland, suburban dish had been laid out on the table that night.

She - an expert in the art of silent compliance - had followed their example, letting the unremarkable food settle like rocks at the bottom of her stomach as she stared with dead eyes at the single blemish on the wooden kitchen table. It could have gone worse. They could have yelled at her, or asked ‘what’s wrong with you’, which they would often do when she didn’t smile. They could have asked her to look nicer, or to sit in a more ladylike way, or to stop ‘bringing the mood down’, but they didn’t. They ate their cardboard cutout food and talked about cardboard cutout pleasantries.

She was inclined to leave that night, but interviews only began two weeks later, and she had nowhere to go. Her friends were _good_ and _nice,_ but they weren’t the ones she saw on TV (the ones who were cosmically unconditional and who would care and love for one another no matter what), so she couldn’t go to them. There was no other family nearby, and she had no money for a hotel or anything - not if she was going to cut her hair and buy new clothes before the interview - so she’d have to sit ducks in her own life for a couple more days before she could start taking initiative. 

Instead, she just sat on her bed - which was really only a mattress on the floor, since she’d broken it two years back and her parents hadn’t been bothered to find her a new one - and stared just as blankly at her bedroom door, thinking of how she would explain it.

She’d done it before.

She never really liked thinking about it, but did so anyways, because it was helpful in moments like these. The memory was a little less than a year ago - in September, maybe - when she’d come home from a rare night of talking and laughing and having _fun_ with the new girl, who had blonde hair and a pretty smile. The new girl, who was a fan of the show as well (which was surprisingly rare thing to find), had shown her the new merch she’d gotten, and then they’d gone to catch a movie. It was late, and she’d been unusually exhilarated. Her mind was in the state it could often be late at night, when the hours blurred together in a whirl of colour and light, and so when she’d gotten a text from one of her other friends asking about some secret that she’d allegedly been keeping, she wasn’t thinking straight when she typed her response.

Half an hour later, and she had felt her heart sink to her feet.

_‘Are you saying you don’t really want to be a girl?’_

The next day she’d wanted to go back in time and slap her previous self in the face. _You should have said no! You should have laughed and diverted the conversation far,_ ** _far_** _away and made him forget about it instead of being an idiot._

But no. She’d flipped and admitted it and by the time the night was up she’d lost another friend.

There was so much shame in her blood that she felt like molten lead with every single step that she took. It was humiliating. She was like some little kid playing dress-up, and there weren’t even any costumes, because she was too scared to even try one on except in the privacy of her own locked bathroom door. She collapsed _him_ deep into herself and trapped him under the rubble of her own chest, so deep that there was no escape.

Nobody knew his name. It was a stupid, embarrassing name and even though she felt her head rush and her cheeks brighten every time she thought about it, she kept it.

He existed only in the confines of her mind. He wasn’t real. He would never be real - not _here,_ anyways, so while she watched the 52nd season with her new friend, she imagined his face on the screen and she found he fit quite well. While he couldn’t exist in _this_ world, where there were too many people who only saw her pretty face and her long dark hair and who would have laughed in her face just as her parents had if she ever brought up his name, he practically belong in the other one.

She tried to convince herself otherwise. But when she closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in the future, all she got was a blank canvas, she knew that the only way for _him_ to exist would be for her to enter. 

He supposes that he never really minded. If he got in, everyone around him would call him by the silly, embarrassing name he’d picked out, so it was really okay if he died. He’d die as himself, anyways.

And so he endured comments on his beautiful long hair and delicate face, knowing that soon the hair would be cut short and that somewhere, somebody was reading the application form where the ‘male’ box had been ticked and the name on the top had ‘Shuichi Saihara’ written in delicate letters.

Once they let him in, this would all be gone, anyways.


End file.
